


Man Like Me

by Writerboy (Hobbitrocious)



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, FTM Tony, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Oneshot, Outing, Pepper-centric, Pre-Relationship, Protective Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Slightly Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6331522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbitrocious/pseuds/Writerboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some secrets Tony needs to keep from the world. Pepper wouldn't know if it weren't for JARVIS being both a caring protector and a mutinous bastard. In the end, things work out okay for all of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> Bringing this fic back from the grave because a good friend of mine really liked it. 
> 
> Original post was on my now-dead Tripod archive, circa 2010 or 2011. Savour the het, 'cause I don't write much of it. :b

When Pepper first entered the world of Tony Stark, Jarvis had already been there. Tony had created his kindly domestic masterpiece before he'd even had the need for such an organised, extensive program to aid his work. Before he'd ever thought of taking the reins of the family business.

Obadiah recalls trying to shut down Jarvis' worried-sounding system during Tony's absence when the young Starkling had run off to Europe in what Obadiah fondly alludes to as "a period of self-discovery". Obadiah sounds proud, fatherly. Tony has, in quiet, not-quite-sober moments, and rarely (if ever) in Mr. Stane's presence, admitted that he feels a stronger bond with the older man than he could say for the all-business automaton that he shared genes with.

Understandably, Pepper thinks, Tony and Obadiah made the best that they could of the dysfunctional inner story behind Stark Industries. And with no Stane children to be jealous of Tony's spotlight, Pepper would say that it all panned out well for them. Tony has a dad, and Obadiah a son.

Pepper feels warmed, touched, to be privy to this knowledge... If not a little embarrassed. She's only an assistant, after all, for as much as Tony leans on her like the far more responsible sister he never had. She has become both his assistant and his keeper when Obadiah isn't there, which is (one of the reasons) why she does her best to screen from her mind the bombardment of sexual tension Tony unthinkingly sends her way at times - times when he lets his eyes do the talking; very rare times, when the both of them are silent on the outside but something is loud and deafening on the inside. As long as he's Obadiah's overgrown orphan, Pepper has trouble seeing past Tony's traumatised inner child to the potentially responsible adult who just may be trying to tell her he's falling in love.

The big, soft eyes and long lashes, along with the sort-of baby face behind the stubbly beard, they help. At the same time, they don't help. Sometimes, she can't decide if she's looking at a wounded man made of misguided intentions and pathos, or the world's largest five-year-old. In any case, Pepper has found that puppy eyes are able to add a little length to her fuse, which has inevitably shortened since she started work here.

Doing the dry cleaning, as well, keeps her from letting that potentially responsible adult hiding inside Tony try to talk some sense into the part of Pepper that reminds her what a bad idea it is to date one's boss. This part of the job reminds her, time and time again, that Tony has more than just Daddy Issues. It's a shame, really.

And dealing with his hangovers... Pepper isn't even going to think about that. Not for a few days, anyway, until the next drinking binge comes along.

When Obadiah refers to Tony's post-graduation European escapade, Pepper assumes he refers to the substance abuse and women. At that age, it's another thing Pepper can understand. The fact that Tony hasn't grown out of it is not.

Obadiah never was able to turn Jarvis off, he admits. The system found ways around his meddlesome commands, and Jarvis, as well as it - or he; Jarvis' lifelike qualities never cease to impress and endear - could, fretted over the fate of its creator. Left running for months on end (almost two years, in fact), in the garage that had housed the Jarvis hardware before Tony returned and integrated it with everything else, just worrying and running in circles. Or circuits. Who knows. Pepper overheard Obadiah tell Tony, once, that Jarvis spent the last few weeks of Tony's 'disappearance' replaying archived video footage of Tony on its main screen.

Obadiah also said that, before he'd flown out to retrieve Tony at the end of it, he had finally succeeded in purging the old video database. Jarvis had increased the volume every twenty-four hours until it could be heard across the entire ground floor, which was the last straw.

Pepper had also overheard Tony say something to the effect of good riddance, that the footage wasn't flattering anyway. Solemn-sounding attempts at chuckles dying out, and then ice clinking against scotch glasses.

It's a bit strange, but, as someone else who worries about Tony, she feels sorry for Jarvis that he's treated like a machine. Yes, she knows that's precisely what he is, but... even so, she sympathises.

Jarvis gives the impression that he sympathises with her, and that helps her feel less alone. She's not the only one who's so close to Tony and yet is kept at bay by his antics. God forbid anyone discover what really lurks in Tony Stark's heart.

One night, Pepper's world - or, rather, her continent, wherever it is, in Tony's world - is spun on its side.

Obadiah has taken Tony out to discuss company business, which means Tony has had a thankfully light night of drinking. He's only had enough that Obadiah has to steady him on his way to the door, not carry him as he's had to on occasion. Obadiah holds the door for Tony, but that's not unusual. Many people hold the door for Tony, either because he's important, a well-tipping patron, or the one writing their checks. With Obadiah, though, it's almost more of an inside joke between the two men. Tony will blast past anyone else, but he'll always give Obadiah something, even if it's just the barest hint of a nod.

For as much as she feels like she knows Tony and his quirks by now, Pepper can't hold a candle to Obadiah and Jarvis. Even Rhodey has been around from day one, and there are a number of secrets he's surely locked away for Tony from way back when.

One night, something happens that explains Tony's distance from her and makes the other, obvious explanations look like a calculated act.

Jarvis has suggested to Pepper (and maybe to Tony, but Pepper's not sure) that Tony does, in fact, have a special thing for Pepper that he doesn't for his endless parade of flings. Smart Pepper wants to keep her workplace objectivity intact, but Romantic Pepper needs to know, for Tony's sake, that he's capable of love. When asked for his reasoning, Jarvis supplies a soft-spoken compilation of hormone level fluctuations, heart rate increases, and unusual behaviour. Jarvis also cites a correlation between all of this and interactions between Pepper and Tony.

These conversations, if they can be called such, made Pepper blush at first. Now, she smiles and shakes her head, as though this is just Jarvis leaning against a water cooler and trying to get her to indulge in office gossip.

When she goes to bed at night after these 'conversations', a tickle at the back of her mind keeps her awake for a while longer than she'd like, a normally sensible voice whispering of things such as denial, hard facts, and the possibility that she's purposely missing out, punishing herself _and_ the lonely heart she knows is beating beneath that cool, blue light.

One night, just like many before, Pepper has been awake and working well into the night, and takes advantage of the room Tony lets her call her home away from home. Jarvis occupies the screen disguised as a hanging mirror if she should need him.

After Pepper met the boys at the door and sent Obadiah home with a promise to get Tony settled into bed, as opposed to the concrete basement floor or the workbench, Tony had sat on the edge of the mattress and pinned her with those sad, wide eyes. She told herself the glittering shine was just the alcohol as she helped him off with his shoes and under the blankets.

Jarvis turned out the lights as Pepper left, graciously cutting off the shine.

Hours later, Pepper lay in bed listening to those nagging whispers that wouldn't let her sleep. 

Jarvis had one more interruption to provide that night.

Pepper gasped when the mirror, on the wall she was facing, lit up its little corner next to the bed. Without introduction, a slideshow started, including most of the newspaper and magazine clippings recently unearthed for Tony's introduction at the awards ceremony almost six months ago. Images flashed by of a young Tony at age five, age eight, and a little later. Almost always dwarfed or obscured by whatever revolutionary chunk of technology was sharing his featured article. The photos were old, pixelated despite state-of-the-art scanning equipment and Jarvis' superb-resolution screens. The familiar series of pictures ended, and replayed again from the beginning.

Pepper was about to snap at Jarvis to cut it out and let her sleep, but her breath caught in her throat as her eyes hit upon a marked difference in the second slideshow.

The same images, only clearer. Not as worn, or yellowed, or blurred. Only one newspaper title held Tony's name instead of Howard's, but it was spelled wrong. It must have been edited for the ceremony presentation, because Pepper was sure it hadn't read "Toni" that night.

Pepper slowly closed her mouth. Poor kid, she thought with a small pang, how insignificant he must have felt next to his busy father. The reporter hadn't bothered to spell his name right, nor an editor correct the obvious error. They wouldn't dare let that slip nowadays. Not after what Tony had become.

She was able to smile a little at a young, excited Tony grinning clearer than ever from behind his projects.

The slideshow ended again, and Jarvis ran a video in its place. Pepper pushed herself off her elbow and sat up to watch. It wasn't anything she had seen before. It must have been shortly before Tony's MIT days.

There wasn't any audio to it, but Tony was perfectly recognisable on mute. Especially with that burdened depth to his eyes, just the same as Pepper had left to rest in the bedroom two floors above. Those eyes said plenty.

The view on the camera zoomed out in a quick and shaky, amateur fashion. For a moment, Pepper's mind froze, and she wasn't sure what she was seeing.

"Jarvis," she demanded, hushed, sounding far calmer than she felt. Watching, though she couldn't stop herself, felt like an intrusion. And wasn't Obadiah supposed to have deleted this? "Why are you showing me this?"

In response, the video paused. For as hard as she blinked, as determinedly she told herself to wake up and stop seeing things that couldn't be there, the sight remained the same.

"I'm sorry," Jarvis chimed. Pepper forced her cascade of thoughts and questions aside to hear what Jarvis was saying. They remained, a dull roar of white noise playing against the soothing accent. "I thought it might help to move you and Mr. Stark beyond your interpersonal impasse. I gather I've overstepped my bounds."

Pepper, speechless, simply stared at the screen until it went dark of its own accord, Jarvis' way of ducking out with dutifully apologetic grace.

She sat like that for some time.

It was absolutely the least appropriate thing to do, but Pepper found herself walking stiffly up the stair to Tony's room. Confronting her boss in the middle of the night, with him still drunk, no doubt, was certainly not the way to handle this open Pandora's box.

She tried to tell herself that again, sitting on the edge of Tony's bed. Tried to tell herself that it was unacceptable to be watching him sleep.

Watching him sleep and wondering what he might look like with a little more of a baby face, like she'd seen in Jarvis' tape. With two soft, pale mounds eclipsing the plate of the arc reactor. With a little more around his hips, and without the notoriously overzealous thing between his legs.

Suddenly the playboy looked like a cover, the snarky attitude masking perhaps more bitterness than before, and the petulant child she'd been dealing with simply hadn't had _time_ to grow up, because this creature must not have truly been born yet on the day the camera had been pointed at that brooding, hesitant girl.

Pepper shocked herself with a tear crawling wetly down her own cheek. A tear for poor, insecure, brilliant Tony. Pepper had so many questions for him.

She stopped herself from resting a hand on his shoulder. Shakily, she got up and crept back to her own room.

* * *

In the morning, Pepper hunches tiredly over her electronic planner pad in the kitchen. A well-rested but dazed Tony joins her, staring into his coffee while Pepper valiantly keeps her head down, working the stylus in her hand frantically over the miniature screen. Her cheeks burn as though trying to start an inferno inside her head to destroy the evidence of her illicitly acquired intel on the person sitting right across the table from her.

Tony, to his credit, at least notices something is off, and his gaze drifts up from his cup.

Pepper's eyes snap up to meet his (hers, Pepper thinks for a fleeting instant before she can quash it).

Tony gives his assistant an appraising look, then breaks the electric silence between them. 

"I'm sorry if I said anything weird last night," he says subduedly. "I mean, you know, booze talks more than money sometimes, and, Pepper, you _know_ I don't mean to offend you... not too much, anyway." He ends with a small, hopeful smile. An apology.

Pepper leans back and lets herself breathe again. A short whoosh of embarrassed relief. She smiles, too, and assures, "No. No, you... behaved yourself last night. My mind's just been all over the place... I didn't get a lot of sleep."

With a genuine grin, Tony reaches across to still Pepper's fidgeting hands. Nervous, Pepper's face goes taut once more.

Tony doesn't notice this time, or ignores it. "I guess I didn't tell you, either, that we closed the Nevada deal yesterday. All that extra campaign planning we were gonna do? It's moot now. Drop it. Take the day off for yourself, get some sleep. And you know what? Take tomorrow off, too, so you have time to _enjoy_ it."

He pulls his hands back and swigs down the last of his breakfast, still grinning proudly. Oblivious that Pepper's wound up from anything but a torrential workload.

Pepper's never been more grateful for some time to do nothing but sit and _think_.

* * *

The next time Tony makes a romantic overture, a few days later and while mostly sober, he seems to think it's the same as always. A light-hearted jest, because Pepper will never take it seriously. Not until the next time he can't hold back that wistful shine that makes her think of abandoned puppies and wishing she could hug everything better.

Except, something must have changed without Tony's noticing, because he could swear that Pepper's taking it seriously this time. She blushes, and there's a distinct lack of her usual sarcasm. Tony throws in some of his own to fill the void and makes up an excuse to hole up in the basement for the day. Jarvis quips on Tony's noticeably bright, bouncy mood. The mood lasts all day, though Jarvis' comments, tactfully, do not.

Jarvis has also dropped the subject with Pepper, permanently, and they've gone back to life as usual. Pepper can hardly fault a machine, after all, and a machine programmed to have Tony's best interests at heart, at that.

And it's heartening to know that, speaking of hearts, it's likely Tony's isn't all that small and cold, it's only too well-guarded. Pepper looks forward to finding out. She's spurred on by the fact that, should it reach a point where Tony might feel obligated to spill his secret to her, whether to allow her closer or to push her away, she'll be able to go on feeling the same about him, because Pepper's already figured out how that part of Tony fits into her understanding of him.

Sure, she still has plenty of questions, but those can wait. If they are never answered, Pepper can lay them to rest. She's satisfied to be in the loop now, as much as she can be, and to be able to _care_ about Tony without him being able to push her away for it. He doesn't know she knows, and Jarvis, Pepper's positive, won't make the same slip twice.

There's less dry cleaning for a while, too, as Tony takes notice of Pepper's fresh manner. The drinking's a different story, but that would be too much to ask for overnight.

One evening, Tony announces they're going to dinner. Pepper asks with which client so she can book a suitable restaurant, and is pleasantly surprised to hear that, no, it's just the two of them, and the chef is downstairs, in the kitchen, as they speak.

Without being told, Jarvis provides mood lighting and subtle piano as soon as they sit to eat. An unspoken, "I told you so, and, yes, this qualifies as a _date_."

Pepper takes that for what it is, and marvels for one detached moment that the very computer a young, gifted, female Tony started to tinker with ages ago has now become his matchmaker. Pepper giggles partly in awe at that, and partly at Tony's lecture to the stubborn champagne cork he insists on attempting to remove himself.

If the evening goes well, and the next 'date' after that, and the next... Pepper's looking forward to seeing how this turns out.


End file.
